Day 25, May 20. Part 1. Our 4th day of rest in Muxia!

Day 25, Friday, May 20. Part 1. Our 4th day of pure, unadulterated rest in Muxia. 

After having decided yesterday not to walk to Finisterre, Chris woke up this morning deciding we didn't have to go to Finisterre at all. Everyday we fall a little bit more in love with Muxia and how sweet, beautiful and quiet it is. We have really come to appreciate this quiet time. We are going to have almost a week of reflection, and we find that our experience of this Camino deepens everyday as we let it age (or as Quakers say, season) inside us, without any pressure to rush on to our next destination or project. River says if she ever walks the Camino again she will try to plan a week of quiet reflection at the end. 

We spent a good part of our day in the company of Dr. Rob (who as it turns out is from Nashville) and his daughter Katie (from Seattle) and their Camino friend Marcus (from  Munich) who were all on the last day of their Camino. They left by bus for Santiago this afternoon. We really enjoyed getting to know them and in fact fell a little in love with them the way we so often did on our first Camino. It gave us a really sense that this rest stage is part of the Camino. The conversation was wonderful: about therapy and its risks and uncertainties, Greek mythology, life choices, and family.  Dr. Rob is just two years younger than River and three years older than Chris' oldest son. Katie, a therapist specializing in EMDR and trauma treatment, is the oldest of 6 children -- she has four younger brothers and a youngest sister (like Chris' four boys followed by a girl). She is also mother of a 13 year old daughter and 4 year old son. Marcus made a career with his own business in the aerospace industry -- he has sold his business and is walking the Camino to discover what will come next in his life. He has two preteen daughters. When young he had hoped to study but didn't have good enough grades to get into psychology in the very competitive German university system. He was remarkably well-read and informed on a broad range of subjects. Photo 1 shows our little band of five love-inebriated pilgrims just as we were about to separate. 

 

It was perhaps the sunniest day so far. We even got to sit around for the first time on t-shorts (which is what we mostly wore everyday in 2012). 

We again enjoyed our slow stroll out to the Church of the Virgin of the Boat. We searched in vain for the famous miraculous boat that was transformed into stone, although photo 2 shows a rock that vaguely resembles a sail. River was equally entranced by some tiny black polywog-like fish swimming in a tide pool in which the church was reflected (photo 3). And of course River can never resist the rocky coastline and the waves crashing enthusiastically against the rocks (photo 4). 

 

 

 

In the afternoon we strolled through (and beyond) town in the other direction, sharing a chocolate ice cream cone and loving the idiosyncratic details of this little town still very unspoiled by tourism. Photos 5 and 6 show such details. 

 

 

We ate supper at a funky little restaurant beside the marina in front of colored chalk rendition of a green-eyed octopus (photo 7). 

 

There has been at times an almost imperceptible shift in who is playing the leader in our relationship that we have both welcomed and blessed and been intrigued by.  This feels like one of the themes of our Camino. It reminds Chris of how Ovid ends the story of Orpheus and Eurydice. Now they walk side by side though sometimes Eurydice takes the lead and sometimes Orpheus, but with no fear of ever again losing his Eurydice. 

So in some sense it feels like we are leading a kind of afterlife. Which reminds River of Linda Pastan's poem, An Early Afterlife. (The only online version we could find was embedded in an essay, but if you are willing to scroll down diligently to the fourth poem in the essay you can find and read it at;

http://4thapenglish2012.wikispaces.com/Linda+Pastan-Haas   )

In a way, the interruption of our Camino walk, the initial disappointment and the gradual acceptance and even enjoyment, provides a metaphor for both dying and retiring (though River technically retired 4 years ago, it will be when she finishes her PCT hike this summer that she begins to fully face retirement and what it might mean in her life). Our time in Muxia feels like practice for some of the big transitions ahead. 

To be continued

Day 24, May 19, part 2. Yet another day of rest in Muxia

Day 24, Thursday, May 19, part 2. 

Continued from part 1. 

So River went off on a walk to scout the first mile and a half of the Camino from Muxia to Finisterre. She found some beautiful beaches (photos 1 and 2) and an amazing big green lizard (photo 3). 

 

 

 

She also discovered via her various gps apps that there would be essentially no cafes or bars for the 10 mile walk to Lira (where they would sleep the first night), so she would have to plan provisions for three rest and re-fuel stops. 

Then she pointed out the big green lizard to two passing pilgrims (who turned out to be a father and daughter, Rob and Katie, from Seattle). As they walked into Muxia together,  she mentioned Chris's foot and Rob asked very intelligent questions and of course turned out to be a doctor. He said he'd be happy to look at Chris's foot and advise us whether more walking would be really dangerous. 

River left Rob and Katie at the municipal albergue and came "home" to discover that Chris had decided against walking. Though disappointed, Chris really thought it was the wise choice. River was both disappointed and relieved. 

Later Rob and Katie showed up at our albergue (the municipal was full as it turns out) in beds beside ours. Rob took a look at Chris' foot and supported her choice: though the symptoms could be tendonitis, they were also compatible with a stress fracture, and in that case it would be a mistake to put that kind of stress on the foot until it had time to repair and heal. 

Photo 4 shows Rob and Katie at the albergue. 

 

So now we are planning our ride to Finisterre -- choosing between leaving tomorrow afternoon and going by bus, or waiting until Saturday (when the buses won't be running) and taking a taxi. 

The other high drama of the day consisted of River's attempt to get her Spanish vodaphone SIM card for her iPhone (which would expire tomorrow) recharged. She asked the sweet man who administers the albergue and he sent her to the supermarket. The cashier at the supermarket was utterly perplexed, and had no idea where it could be recharged. She turned to the others in the line: they too had no idea. River thought she remembered the vodaphone salesperson saying she could recharge it easily, even in small towns, in banks or stores, so she went next to a bank. The banker too looked perplexed. Then he came out from behind his counter, grasped her elbow, guided her out the door and half a block down the street to a clothing store that did indeed have a poster that said SIM cards (from various providers) can be recargado  (recharged) here. Except the store was closed and would reopen at 5pm. So, after Chris and Riv had their afternoon stroll, they returned to the bank and found their way to the clothing store and -- voila -- River's card was recargado!

Day 24, May 19, part 1. Yet another day of rest in Muxia

Day 24, Thursday, May 19, part 1. And once again, we walked ZERO miles (except for our strolls around town). 

We slept late yet again this time in our new albergue (pronounced all-BEAR-gay, as Chris noticed that Simon pronounced it, not all-bear-GAY, as River had been pronouncing it). Then we sipped coffee in the beautifully stocked albergue kitchen before heading out to our usual breakfast cafe. 

After breakfast we strolled along the coast to the Church of the Virgin of the Boat and tried to locate the tipping rock and rock sail (which apparently were sites of pagan pilgrimage and rites of passage long before they became part of a Christian miracle story).  Photo 1 shows River taking a photo of the coastline (part of the Costa de Morte, famous for shipwrecks and most recently a disastrous oil spill, as well as longtime pilgrimage and ritual holy place). 

 

And photo 2 is the picture River was taking. Chris had said she was surprised River wasn't clambering over the rocks to get closer to the ocean, and so of course River at once started clambering. Photo 3 shows the amazing little wildflowers growing there among the rocks and tide pools. 

 

 

 

On the walk back we were both curious about the old stone walls -- it didn't seem reasonable that they were enclosing pastures or that they were the walls of long ago houses -- River wondered if they had s ritual significance -- Chris finally guessed they were dividing the land into plots and terraces for gardening. Photo 4 shows the walls. 

 

We are enjoying the rest and the time to reflect on our Camino. One of the interesting themes of this Camino for River has been meditating on the difference between how she and Chris typically respond to pain and discomfort. River focuses rather aggressively on diagnosis, etiology, and treatment. Chris tends to see these changes very much the way she sees weather: variations in the everchanging nature of things that do not require (and in fact would elude our attempts at) labels, explanation of causes, or attempts to control. So that diarrhea or back or foot pain are just like clouds and rain. The sky isn't always sunny nor do we expect to explain or control it when it isn't. It is just what is happening. Strange for River (who thinks of herself as a skeptic in relation to science and rationality) to see herself so firmly entrenched in a Western scientific, rational tradition and Chris more Taoist ( and River's desire to note and label these differences just another example...). 

River is wondering, as we approach the final chapter of our lives, aging and dying, if the metaphor of weather might often be more comforting (perhaps in its own way more healing) than the metaphors of western medicine?

We're sitting here in the sun again, this time with white wine and an empanada, wondering whether we will rest another day in Muxia and then bus to Finisterre, or whether we will attempt the walk to Finnesterre in two relatively short gentle 10 mile days. We know what is wise, and, unlike in the early days of our Camino, we will probably bow this time to what is wise. 

"We don't know!" Chrissy says, with a mischievous giggle. 

To be continued

Day 23, May 18, Part 2, more rest in Muxia

Day 23, part 2. Wednesday,  May 18, another day of zero miles. 

Continued from part 1. 

In the late but still sunny afternoon, after writing most of this post, we walked very slowly (Chris says "I don't have to walk this slowly but my foot really likes it." ) to a small beach just beyond town.  We strolled on the sand, collected a few tiny shells for sister Judy's shell garden, and sat a long while on the beach just watching the gentle waves arrive, lap the shore, and depart; the seagulls ride the wind; a sailboat anchored nearby slowly turn on the wind. 

Photo 8 shows River at ease on the beach, photo 9 shows the beach she is gazing toward, photo 10 shows the boat. (By the way, on her walk earlier River met a couple who seemed to be struggling with heavy packs. She congratulated them on completing their Camino. They laughed and said they just came off the boat. On second look the heavy packs were of garbage bags they must have brought to shore to discard! It seemed to her that arrival by sailboat on that rocky coast known as the Costa de Morte, coast of death, because of its many fatal shipwrecks deserved more congratulations than walking the tame Camino. )

 

 

 

 

We thought about how the Camino occupies the part of ourselves that needs to be constantly "doing" with walking, allowing the rest of us to simply be in the moment. But here we seemed content with simple being, no doing needed at all. 

We also reflected on our Camino and how it differed from our first Camino in 2012. The first, we agreed, was like a honeymoon: we fell naturally and easily and head over heels in love with the Way and the other wayfarers. Day after day of pure bliss. (Yes, we had our wounds and injuries, but that did not change the overall mood. ). This year's Camino was more like domestic love, the willingness to accept and endure the difficulties and limitations of the Camino and other pilgrims (including one another) for the sake of love, with small moments of bliss all the more precious because they are rare. We both felt content with both Caminos and very grateful we had chosen to and were able to walk them both.  As a walk of gratitude and celebration of Chris' 85 years (and so also of course of our  35 years of knowing each other),this Camino seemed just perfect.  

Day 23, May 18, part 1. More Rest in Muxia

Day 23, part 1. Wednesday, May 18. Another day of zero miles. 

We slept long and deeply at the alburgue. We are still in Muxia, feeling deeply entrenched here, practically ex-pats. 

In a mostly cloudy day we have managed to find moments of beautiful sunshine. We began the day with a leisurely breakfast, then left our backpacks at our new albergue, and enjoyed a slow beautiful stroll along the coastline. Just by chance we arrived at the church of the virgin of the boat along with a small tour bus that included two different pairs of peregrinos we had met earlier. We were really delighted to see the couple from Flagstaff Arizona (and be able to ask them to convey our greetings to their Camino friends from North Carolina) as well as a couple of women around River's age who had been friends since college. 

As it turns out we must be quite notorious (given our matching turquoise jackets and Chrissy's wrinkles)for we learned that these two pairs had already spoken with one another about having met us along the way. 

Photos 1 through 3 show the lovely coastline beside the church and (with wild calla lilies) on the walk home. Photo 4 shows Chris walling on the walkway. 

 

 

 

 

We walked back into town and had a big salad for lunch, sitting at an outdoor table at our breakfast place. Then Chris returned to the albergue for a nap and River went for a walking adventure of her own, exploring beaches on the other side of town and scouting the walks we would have taken into Muxia from Santiago if we had followed the Camino through Finisterre, or if we had taken the alternate directly to Muxia. 

Photos 5 and 6 show two of the small white sand beaches just beyond town. 

 

 

Photo 7 shows a pelegrina, newly arrived via the Muxia alternate Camino, who left her backpack on the beach and ended her Camino with a plunge into the ocean. 

 

 

Day 22, May 17, Relaxing in Muxia

Day 22, Tuesday, May 27. Relaxing in Muxia. Walked zero miles. :-)

Here we are again sitting in the sun, under a blue and for the moment cloudless sky. Photo 1 shows a happy Chrissy. 

 

We slept late, and stretched breakfast out until almost 11. Photo 2 shows the view from the cafe that has now become our regular for breakfast. You have to imagine the sun umbrella snapping in the wind. We hadn't idea at this point what a lovely sunny day we would eventually have. 

 

After breakfast we walked up toward the church which celebrates the Virgin Mary's miraculous appearance (on a stone boat) to encourage St James in his rather unsatisfactory efforts to convert the local Celts. Chris paused part way up the knoll and lay in the sun like a cat. River continued to the top. Photo 3  the church, photo 4 an interesting sculpture, photo 5 the view back of the town of Muxia which revealed shoreline on both sides of the town. 

 

 

 

 

Back at the alburgue after our stroll, while we waited endlessly for our clothes to dry, we both began reading a kindle version of Melville's translation of Ovid's Metamorphoses (that River bought by accident when she thought she was just window shopping). 

Our afternoon walk took us to the bar where we began writing this blog and where we sat for a long while soaking up sun. We then explored the other coastline of Muxia. Incidentally, Chris pronounces it  Moo-Shee-ah and River Mook-hee-ah and it turns out we're both right except Chris is just a little more right because hers is the Galician pronunciation and River's is the Castellan. 

Photos 6 and 7 show the rugged beauty of the coastline (which reminds us a little of our sister Judy's beach near her home in Shell Beach CA). One of the great things we weren't able to capture in a photo was all the young families and children playing on and near the beach. It was especially magical because for them as for us it was the first truly sunny day after almost two weeks of rain. 

 

 

We had a pleasant early dinner and learned a lot from our waiter about differences between Galician and Castellan Spanish. Now we will head back to sleep at the same alburgue (which generously allowed us to stay a second night). 

Tomorrow: more rest. And we hope more sun. 

Day 21, May 16, Lavacolla to Muxia by bus

Day 21, Monday, May 16, Lavacolla to Muxia by bus. 

Chris had the excellent idea of taking a taxi the short way into Santiago to the bus station. This saved quite a bit of time, anxiety and navigating challenges. We were able to enjoy our hotel breakfast and get to the bus station in plenty of time to confirm the schedule, find the platform and get our backpacks secured to safely ride in the baggage compartment 

Photo 1 shows the bus to Muxia pulling in right on schedule. 

 

The bus only took a little over two hours and we loved arriving at the ocean, though the overcast sky and fierce wind was not exactly what we had in mind. We found beds at the municipal albergue (an unusually pleasant and welcoming albergue, although they actually all are quite wonderful). We were relieved to be back in an albergue and over our culture-shock at being in a hotel. 

We're now sitting in the sun sipping beer but with every layer of our warm clothing on. We are enjoying watching local boys playing at a small skateboard park and settling rather easily into relaxed mode (after napping several hours when we first arrived. 

River listened to her audiobook of The Paradiso on the bus and in the albergue and this no doubt has great significance since River has been reading and retreading the Inferno and Purgatorio for decades and never until now (with the help of her reading buddy Peter McCorison and now the bus to Muxia) made it to Paradise.  

Photos 2-4 are from our first slow stroll through this very quiet, uncrowded, unrushed little town and along the shoreline. 

 

 

 

We realize this could be the end of our walking for this Camino, which is disappointing. But on the other hand, we have walked about 300 miles (starting at Burgos mile 176, ending Lavacallo, mile 379.6). That is quite a long walk, and we have loved it.